


You chose me to die

by ElineHasAllTheFeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Because damn this episode was wild, Coda, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e15 The Benders, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sam deals with the aftermath of being captured by cannibals, Season/Series 01, Trauma, Whump, as he should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElineHasAllTheFeels/pseuds/ElineHasAllTheFeels
Summary: Sam's fine. Or at least, he would be if his stupid brother would quit staring at him as if he was going to disappear into thin air. Yeah, that would be great.It's been a few days since their run-in with the Benders, and Sam isn't handling it as well as he thinks. Cue a very horrific nightmare.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	You chose me to die

Rain is pouring down, keeping him trapped in the dimly lit motel room. It’s not like he wants to go anywhere, per se, but the implication that he can’t makes him uneasy. The rain especially. It had been raining too when Jenkins…

Sam rolls his shoulder, the muscle still stiff.

‘Dean, have you seen my sweatshirt? I’m absolutely freezi… Seriously, dude, stop staring at me like that or I’ll punch you in the face.’

Dean, who had been staring at Sam as if he was about to bloody disappear, puts up his hands in an exaggerated fashion. ‘Wow, easy tiger. Wasn’t staring.’

Sam only warrants this with a huff.

Getting up from the ratty chair in the corner of the room, Sam makes his way over to the duffel laying at the foot of his bed, neatly zipped close. It couldn’t be more different from the duffel under his brother’s bed, half open and clothes strewn about. Sam sighs. They’re really going to have to have a conversation about that at some point, but he is very much not in the mood.

‘You haven’t touched your dinner yet.’

‘Not hungry.’

And that was that.

He flips through his systematically filed away clothes, frowning as the sweatshirt is missing just as much as it had been before. His fingers pass the black shirt he’d been wearing when… He’d washed it, of course. Nobody would ever know anything bad had happened whilst he’d been wearing that shirt. He’ll know, though.

A flash of lightning fills the room, shortly followed by a loud thunder, and Sam nearly jumps out of his skin. He just doesn’t like thunderstorms, he reminds himself. And he’ll keep reminding himself for as long as he needs to believe it.

The feeling of being watched makes the hairs on his neck stand up. He tries to ignore it, but he’s had a long day. Before he knows it he’s gotten right up in his brother’s face, sneering ‘What?!’ with as much venom as he can muster.

Dean just looks at him, which is probably the most infuriating thing he could’ve done. They stand there, face to face, in utter silence, neither of them wanting to be the first to break. The thunder does it for them. It is exceptionally loud, and Sam clenches his eyes shut, if only for a moment.

When he opens his eyes, Dean is still staring. There is something in his eyes, but Sam isn’t quite sure what. It’s been years since the two brothers could read each other like a book. Years since they didn’t have any secrets, couldn’t. Now, even though getting on the road again has brought back a semblance of normalcy, the eyes looking back at him belong to a stranger.

‘What’s going on, Sammy?’

‘It’s Sam.’

The sneer leaves his mouth before he can even think about it, and Dean’s eyes clench slightly. Any concern, which Sam now recognizes that emotion in Dean’s eyes to have been, vaporizes.

‘Fine. I’m taking a shower. Don’t wait up.’

With those words, Dean disappears into the bathroom, leaving Sam alone in the cold.

Where Dean’s gentle snoring is usually a strange source of comfort, all it brings Sam now is annoyance. As he stares up at the ceiling, following the pattern of shadows the slightly swaying curtains make, he cannot help but blame his brother for keeping him awake. It’s Dean’s fault. Just Dean’s. It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s dark, and it’s raining, and he’s cold, and he’s hungry, and he’s in a cage. Nothing to do with that at all.

‘Sammy,’ a voice whispers. He sits up straight, and his head hits the metalwork above him. Sam’s muscles protest, not liking the sudden movement after so many days of inactivity in the very cramped space.

A scream sounds, and Sam shudders. The metal bars are cold against his hands, but he can’t move himself to let go. He has to find a way out somehow. He has to find his way back to Dean. Dean must be worried sick by now, and a worried Dean is a stupid Dean. Dean is typically pretty smart (not that Sam will ever admit that), but who knows what stupid Dean will do.

‘Alright, the guy, the guy! Take the guy!’

The voice carries from upstairs, and even with the howling wind and the dousing rain he recognizes it immediately. Dean? Dean is here? What does this mean?

‘This means,’ a voice sounds, ‘that you’re next. Good luck.’ As if on cue, the door of his cage springs open, and the air is filled with cackling.

Sam climbs out of the cage, sparing a glance at the other. An unseeing eye stares back at him, the body covered in blood. It takes him a second to recognize the cop. One of her eyes is gone, just like her ears, and there seems to be a piece of her nose missing. A bitesized piece. Sam shudders, fighting the urge to throw up.

As he stumbles his way to the door, the cackling becomes louder. ‘Dean chose you,’ the voice whispers in his ears. ‘He chose you to die.’

The moment Sam steps out of the barn, he is instantly drenched. The rain is still deafening, despite the uncanny sound of rain on the metal rooftop having stopped, and he looks around him trying to get his bearings. On the floor, right in front of him, lays a knife. It’s almost as if it has been planted. Sam doesn’t want to think about that.

He picks up the knife, but it is scorching hot and he immediately drops it. His hand turns red, the blisters already forming, and the cackling somehow becomes even louder.

A bright light blinds him for a second, and it’s only the years of honing his skills as a hunter that cause to stay on his feet and dash in the direction of the forest straight away. The wind is merciless and he cannot see more than a foot in front of him because of the rain, but he runs as fast as his body can carry him.

‘Dean chose you,’ the voice taunts him, almost childlike in its glee. Twigs are streaming his face, and he’s pretty sure he hears his ankle pop, but he shoves all that aside as if it is nothing. Behind him, he can hear warrior cries and what he can only describe as chants, demanding his blood.

The forest seems endless, and Sam’s breathing becomes frantic. With no weapon to defend himself, what is he going to do? He can hold his own in a fight, but these are ruthless killers. He won’t stand a chance. If only Dean were here to help him out. Or sell him out?

Sam swipes at his face to clear the water from his eyes, and has he does, he notices a tree he’s seen before. He looks down, only to see his feet running in place. No matter how hard he pushes, the scenery around him won’t change. The chanting and the cackling fades away to the sound of droplets of red rain hitting the ground. Blood red rain.

Everything around him is smelling metallic, and he sees his clothes slowly drenching in blood from the sky. He can’t seem to move away from this spot, and his hunters are coming closer, and he can’t even think about the irony of a hunter becoming the hunted because suddenly something sharp pierces his side and he falls to the floor, unable to do anything about it.

Sam turns, just in time to see his captors running at him. The four of them are carrying spears and other weapons, and right now they’re raising them to the skies whilst cheering the eeriest cheer Sam has ever heard. Then they step aside, revealing a man without weapons. A man that threw whatever is poking out of Sam right now. Dean grins at him from besides the Benders, his teeth bloodstained, his eyes hungry. He holds out his hand, beckoning for a weapon.

Sam stares in terror as his brother walks over to him, spear pointing right at his heart.

‘Sammy,’ a voice sounds as a hand is placed on his shoulder. Sam screams, grabbing the knife he always keeps just within reach as he rolls into a standing position. He puts the knife to his offender’s throat, pushing them back as far away as he can.

‘Woah, Sammy, jeez! Calm down! It’s me!’

Sam’s breathing is laboured as he tries to blink the blood that isn’t there out of his eyes. It’s still raining, but it’s drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat. His hands are shaky, but no way in hell is he letting go of his only way of defending himself. He might go down, but he’ll take anyone he can with him.

‘Back away, that’s an order.’

The barked command awakens something in Sam long buried, and it’s like his feet are no longer his own as he stumbles backward on the faded carpet. At the movement, his breath catches in his throat. He looks down, frantic fingers trying to find the spear that’d been piercing his side only mere moments ago.

‘Sammy,’ Dean whispers. The Dean in front of him isn’t the same as before. The grin is gone, replaced by a frown. His outstretched hands aren’t bloody, and whatever he’s whispering aren’t chants or cackles. As Dean pries the knife out of Sam’s fingers, Sam realizes Dean is muttering _you’re okay_ over and over.

A shiver wracks his body and he looks around for the first time, trying to find out where he is. This isn’t a forest. He’s inside, sheltered from the rain. Sheltered from…

A blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, and he’s guided towards something to sit on. Despite the sweat covering his entire body, he’s never felt so cold before in his life, and he tentatively clutches the blanket around him as if it might disappear any moment.

‘Jesus, Sam. Warn a guy next time you’re going to freak out on him.’

Dean’s voice sounds unsteady despite his words, as if he’s just as unsettled as Sam feels. Dean, who is not trying to kill him. The thought doesn’t quite register.

‘You chose me.’ Sam’s voice is shaky, and he’s not even sure if Dean can hear him at all, but he has to get the words out, he simply needs to. ‘You chose me to die.’

Sam’s face is taken into rough, calloused hands, and he flinches. The grip relaxes immediately, but doesn’t let go.

‘I didn’t choose you to die, Sam. I chose you to live. That was the only way for you to have a fighting chance. I knew you’d fight your way out and get us out of that mess.’

It takes a second for Sam to take that in. ‘To live, not to die,’ he repeats. Sam stares, eyes unseeing, as he nods, more to himself than anyone else.

‘To live,’ Dean confirms.

They stay that way for a little while, Sam shivering as they both sit on the bed. Eventually, Dean removes his hands from Sam’s face to push his body back on the mattress, covering Sam with whatever blankets he can find. As he moves towards his own bed, a hand clutching his shirt stops him.

‘Stay?’ Sam’s voice sounds pathetic, and he knows it, but the idea of being alone right now is not something he wants to give too much thought. Not whilst it’s raining this hard, and not whilst it’s this dark, and not whilst that shirt is still in his bag, taunting him. He vows to get rid of it in the morning.

Dean looks at him for a moment, clearly debating something, before a small smile appears on his face. ‘Anything for you, little brother,’ he mutters. Settling in next to Sam, the younger brother lets out a relieved sound that he will deny making in the morning. As Dean moves besides him, trying to get comfortable, Sam closes his eyes. And for the first time since leaving that cage, he rests.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt the urge to rewatch this episode the other day, and I've been thinking of implications for fics ever since. Despite it being such a oldie, the Benders remains one of my favourite epsiodes to date. I've always wanted to write a very classic nightmare story, and this episode fit the bill exactly. I hope you guys enjoyed, and do let me know what you think! I have some more ideas for Bender shorts, so maybe you'll see those soon :D


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